


First Daughter

by Dunyazad9



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: BAMF Chasten, Chasten is a Good Teacher, Clueless bureaucrat, Disability policy, Education Policy, Eventual Smut, M/M, Not really kid fic but there is a kid in it, Pete is elected in 2024, White House Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunyazad9/pseuds/Dunyazad9
Summary: Pete and Chasten struggle with issues currently faced by 7 million other families in the United States.
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Peter Buttigieg
Comments: 27
Kudos: 37





	1. A Well-Attended Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to "Dignity, Access and Belonging," the policy released by Pete Buttigieg's campaign on November 2, 2019. I do not own the characters, and any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental. Acronyms at the end if you need them.
> 
> Revised slightly to reflect that Pete is elected in 2024. Takes place in April, 2025.

The receptionist watched as, one by one, the members of the small group inserted their drivers’ licenses into the scanner and waited for their name tags to emerge. She reminded herself firmly of her instruction to treat the two men just as they would any other parents. She had to admit that they were making that easy, with their unassuming demeanor and their daddy jeans and polos. 

The younger of the two men picked up both nametags from the bottom of the scanner and peeled and pressed one of them to his husband’s shirt. He was rewarded with a look of such appreciation that the receptionist blushed and turned her eyes away, feeling as though she’d intruded on a private moment. She’d witnessed that intense gaze many times on television; now she wondered what it would be like to be a regular recipient of it in private.

The woman with bright eyes and bouncy white curls –the student’s grandmother, of course -- smiled at her sympathetically, as if to assure her that this was all perfectly normal. They were joined by a sturdy man and woman who, the receptionist guessed, were Secret Service agents because they had arrived early and toured the building. 

The receptionist gestured toward the chairs outside the door of the main office, against the wall. “I’m sorry we don’t have an extra room for you to wait in. They know you’re here. Someone will come shortly to take you to the meeting.” She knew she shouldn’t sound apologetic, and she’d said the same thing to hundreds of parents in the years she’d been in her job, but now it felt wrong. She asked herself if it was because of the fathers’ status and if so, why that should make it more problematic to keep them waiting than was the case with other parents. But the group left the office with good grace.

When they’d settled in their chairs, Pete turned to his husband with a quizzical smile. “Just as you predicted they would do. I almost didn’t believe you.”

“Yup. They keep parents waiting to make sure we understand that we're on their turf. And they need time to finish the meeting-before-the-meeting they’re holding, to make sure everyone is on the same page.” Chasten shifted the binder and folders he held in his arms to get more comfortable. Anne rested several folders of her own in her lap. Peter was content to carry a single folder containing Sophie’s Evaluation Report and an Individualized Education Program with “DRAFT” printed conspicuously on every page. He’d read every word of the documents and written copious notes and questions in the margins. 

Inside the large conference room, the young speech pathologist squirmed nervously in her chair. She’d been in meetings with some eminent politicians before – many of them live in the Francis-Stevens attendance zone – but never anyone as important as this. And in her experience, the white parents usually sent their kids to private schools. She wondered why these two had chosen public school. The idea that she’d be providing speech therapy to the President’s daughter was intimidating. 

But also thrilling. She’d watched his inauguration as part of the crowd of over a million and a half a few months ago. And she had voted for him, not just out of partisan loyalty but because she deeply admired his decency, his intellect and his healing message. 

She was proud of her evaluation. She’d described with precision Sophie’s articulation of every sound in the English language. She’d done a lengthy language sample, more extensive than she’d done with any other child, and she thought it gave an excellent picture of Sophie’s expressive language. She knew that standardized testing was unlikely to yield an accurate picture of Sophie’s skills, so she’d used as many of the informal assessments in her bag of tricks as she could. 

She was disappointed that the special education director didn’t seem to appreciate the work she had done. All she said when discussing the speech therapist’s evaluation was, “We’ll do a VB-MAPP after she starts school in the fall.” 

Now, the special education director cleared her throat and straightened the papers in front of her. The case manager had the draft ER up on the screen in preparation for going over it with the parents.

“As you all know,” the director began in her crisp, authoritative voice, “Sophie is in a PK4 private preschool now and will start kindergarten in the District in the fall. We haven’t filled in the placement information on the IEP because we’re not allowed to do that until after we’ve finalized the goals, objectives and specially designed instruction.” She said "allowed" with a touch of disdain, or perhaps regret, making it clear that she thought whoever did not allow them to do this was misguided. “But we’re prepared to provide Sophie with the best, most intensive and research-based program our District has to offer.”

A few of the District personnel seated around the huge table nodded. Some looked uncomfortable. Others simply looked at the Director expectantly.

“Of course, we can’t provide that program in our building. We’ll have to place her in the Verbal Behavior classroom at Columbia Heights.”

An occupational therapist looked puzzled. “But that’s a class for children with autism. Sophie doesn’t have autism.”

The director gave her a patronizing smile. “It’s not necessary to have autism to be placed in the Verbal Behavior classroom. We believe that Sophie is appropriate for it based on her communication needs.”

The speech therapist decided she might as well speak up. “I know how proud you are of the Verbal Behavior classroom,” she began hesitantly, then added when she saw the flicker of defensiveness on the director’s face, “And rightly so.”

The director’s defensive frown disappeared and her face relaxed, appeased for the time being.

“But I’m afraid you may get push-back from the parents.”

The director looked genuinely surprised. “Goodness, Tameka, I can’t imagine why. As I said, we’re offering our best. Not just a free, appropriate education but an education that’s truly the best for Sophie.”

The therapist swallowed her nervousness because it was important to have this discussion before the parents entered the meeting. “Well, Sophie has been fully included in a typical preschool. And I don’t know if you’ve read the policy papers the President has issued on disability issues …” 

It was apparent from the look of incomprehension on the director’s face that she had not. 

“The paper he issued during his first campaign and reissued for the last one was called ‘Dignity, Access and Belonging.’ It called for 85% of all children with intellectual and multiple disabilities to be included in regular class for 80% of the day by 2025. They call it the 85-80 rule.” 

There were a few nods of recognition around the table from the teachers and related services professionals. 

The occupational therapist chimed in, her voice carefully respectful, “You know that he appointed the CEO of Inclusion International as his Assistant Secretary for OSERS, which says to me that he’s really committed to the policy. And the director of OSEP has issued policy guidance on implementing 85-80. And the Inclusive Practice professional development initiative –”

The director interrupted her with a toss of her hand. “We receive and review all the materials that OSERS and OSEP put out,” she said imperiously. “And our preferred placement is perfectly compatible with the administration’s policies. Because of her extreme communication and academic needs, Sophie is in the 15% who cannot be included. Our experience is that kids who receive intensive teaching of communication skills do better than kids who are included in the early grades and that if Sophie is placed in the Verbal Behavior classroom, she will be more likely to be successfully included later on.” From the sound of it, this was a canned sales pitch that the director had given many times.

The case manager scraped her chair against the floor and stood up. “I’d better go get the family.” Nodding toward the director, she added “You know I support the placement decision, Violet.” 

Tameka, the speech therapist, bit her tongue. She knew that most of the other staff would do what the director wanted. 

The walk to the conference room was a little awkward, with one of the Secret Service agents in front and the case manager trying to lead the way. Chasten sped up to walk side by side with the case manager. “We’re so happy that you finished the evaluation so promptly. Thank you for arranging this meeting around our schedules.”

The case manager looked surprised. “Of course, Mr. First Gentleman. It’s the least we could do. I think all of us want to get services in place for Sophie before the school year ends so everything will be ready to go whence starts kindergarten in the fall.”

Chasten gave her his friendliest smile. “Please, call me Chasten.” It was important to establish an emotional rapport with the people who were going to be responsible for their daughter’s education. And from what the other members of their parent support group had shared with him, this special education director was particularly difficult. “We’re really looking forward to Sophie’s starting school here.” He gestured expansively to convey that he was referring to Francis-Stevens Education Campus. 

The case manager looked uncomfortable, and Chasten’s mental antennae went up. He suspected that this had something to do with what they’d been talking about while he and Peter and Anne waited in the reception area.

The case manager opened the door of the conference room and stepped aside politely. Chasten almost gasped when he saw the crowded room. It reminded him of one of Peter’s Cabinet meetings on those rare occasions when he’d popped in to deliver something to his husband. 

A meeting this size was not going to go well. Glad he was prepared, Chasten reached into one of his folders and pulled out the Invitation to Attend an Individualized Education Program Meeting that they had received two weeks ago.

As they entered the room, the director stood up, and on cue everyone followed her lead. “Mr. President. Welcome. I’m Dr. Violet McKinney, Director of Special Education for Cluster X.”

Peter waved them down politely. “It’s just Pete and Chasten here. Please be seated.”

The director motioned to three empty spaces near the center of the table where they were expected to seat. Chasten held back and his glance at the other two told them to wait, too. He held up the IEP invite. “Dr. McKinney, thank you for going to the trouble of bringing so many people here. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to limit the meeting to the persons whose names are on the Invitation. I don’t want to overemphasize procedural niceties, but I think we can manage with just the team members you listed.”

The director opened and shut her mouth, clearly flustered. Chasten was certain that she knew what he did -- that the parents were entitled to be notified of the specific attendees at an IEP meeting for their child.

“I wanted to have the department heads present so that they could give you the best information about the programs we have to offer your daughter,” the director said feebly.

Chasten raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Are all these people department heads?”

“Uh … well, some of them are classroom teachers and specialists. Again, we wanted to share information about our classrooms …. ”

“How many kindergarten classrooms do you have?” Chasten was determined to be respectful but persistent. 

“Uh … not just kindergarten teachers. I wanted to include Ms. Angelot, because she’s one of our best Autism teachers, and Dr. Wagner, who is a Board Certified Behavior Analyst … just because they have expertise you may think Sophie needs.” The director twisted her hands nervously.

Peter spoke for the first time, his voice mild and even. “Sophie doesn’t have autism, and her behavior is pretty typical of a child her age. So I think we’ll be O.K. if we let them go back to their jobs.”

Chasten felt a small sense of satisfaction as Violet McKinney nodded weakly and gestured to the extra people to leave. As spaces opened up around the table, he took a seat near the head of the table and motioned to Anne to sit next to him, with Peter on the other side of his mother.

When everyone was seated, the case manager shuffled her papers and opened the meeting. “This is an Evaluation Report meeting and IEP meeting for Sophia Sherri-Anne Buttigieg. The parents have agreed to waive the ten-day period between ER and IEP meetings. Let’s go around the table and do introductions.”

On by one the participants identified themselves. 

“Susan Monroe, case manager.”

“George Steinberg, principal.”

“Sarah Fremont, kindergarten teacher.”

“Ron Vitelli, special education teacher.”

“Tameka Robinson, speech pathologist.”

“James Mendelssohn, school psychologist.”

"Aysha Salman, school counselor."

“Chasten Buttigieg, father.”

“Anne Montgomery, grandmother.”

“Pete Buttigieg, father.”

“Graciela Jimenez, occupational therapist.”

“Hanh Nguyen, physical therapist.”

“Jonathan Katz, art teacher.”

“Natasha Borodin, music teacher.”

Across the table, Chasten watched Peter light up as the music teacher was introduced. He knew how important it was to his husband to foster their daughter’s love of music.

When the case manager paused, Peter spoke up. "We really appreciate all the work you've done to prepare for this meeting. We're really excited about Sophie's starting kindergarten here in the fall."

Chasten felt a swell of pride at his husband's unerring instinct for commending the work of others and beginning the meeting on a positive note. He noted the smiles Peter received in response. 

The case manager continued, “So we will go through the ER first and then proceed directly to the IEP.” She picked up a stack of documents that were next to her on the table and began passing them to her left. 

Chasten glanced at his husband, who was holding a well-annotated draft IEP in his hands, then turned to the case manager. “Are these the same as the drafts you sent us?”

The case manager turned to Dr. McKinney as though she wasn’t sure what to say. McKinney was silent and stony-faced; the case manager was on her own. “Uh – I think we made a few changes in the goals.”

Peter and Anne were already scrutinizing the new draft looking for changes. Chasten gave the case manager a card with his email address. “Please send the electronic version of the new IEP to this address, and I’ll do a compare documents.” 

Within minutes he’d run compare documents and spotted the changes. The new goals surprised and dismayed him. They were going to have a battle on their hands.

To be continued ....


	2. Battle of the Experts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Special Education Director does not share Pete's and Chasten's goals for their daughter. Matters come to a head.

Chasten circled the changes in his printed copy of the IEP and slid it down the table to Peter and Anne. “I marked the new goals and specially designed instruction. We’ll talk about the changes when we get there.”

Violet McKinney scowled, and Chasten concluded that she was not happy with him for discovering the changes. She picked up a copy of the Evaluation Report and opened her mouth. It appeared that she planned to plough ahead and go through the report and the IEP.

Chasten gave Peter a brief nod, stood up and began to hand .out copies of two one-page documents.

Tameka looked at the pages Chasten had just handed her. The first was a colorful page titled “Who is Sophie?” with two columns of text and three photos. The largest photo showed a little girl with light brown hair, plump cheeks, almond-shaped eyes and an impish grin, sitting at a baby grand piano. Her broad hands and stubby fingers were spread over the keys, and a portly dog sat beside her on the piano bench. Tameka deduced that it had been taken in their home in South Bend, before they moved to Washington during the transition.

Another photo showed Sophie with a group of other children in what looked like a church. She was dressed in a white wooly costume with floppy ears – a sheep? Tameka remembered hearing that Sophie had participated in the Nativity pageant at the National Cathedral last Christmas, before the inauguration. Sophie was smiling from ear to ear, and the children around her were grinning and hugging her.

A third photo showed Sophie holding a book and looking at the pages raptly. _Her nose in a book,_ Tameka thought to herself. The text described Sophie’s interests in music, animals, books and other children her age. It noted her social skills, her vocabulary and ability to use sign language, and informed people who worked with her in the classroom that she learned best from cooperative learning and from visual and printed materials paired with speech.

Tameka was following the progress of the amendments to the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act that were pending in the Senate. With other speech pathologists, she had testified before the Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions about the need for more integration of speech and language services into general education classes. She knew that if the legislation being spearheaded by Senator Casey and the Director of the Office of Special Education Programs was enacted, every child with disabilities would have a one-page profile like Sophie’s to be given to all that child’s teachers, to convey to them what the child was like as a person, unlike a lengthy Individualized Education Program that focused on the child’s deficits.

She read with surprise and interest that according to the profile, Sophie’s skills in literacy and reading were already at a kindergarten level. That was not reflected in the reevaluation report, which stated only that the Wechsler Individual Achievement Test had been administered to Sophie and that the examiner had been unable to elicit meaningful answers. She filed that away for further discussion when they got to that part of the report.

Natasha Borodin, the music teacher, lit up as she read the profile. “Does Sophie play the piano?” she asked the parents.

Pete nodded proudly. “She’s been taking lessons for the last year. We started by teaching her the black keys first and using color-coding. She’s doing really well. She’s so proud of being able to play the tunes she knows.”

The music teacher nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to have her in my class!”

McKinney’s scowl deepened, and Chasten took note of that data point. Clearly, the director did not intend that Sophie would be educated in Ms. Borodin’s music class. More than likely, she did not intend for her to be educated in this building at all.

After everyone had read the profile, Peter turned to the case manager. “We’d like to begin with our vision for Sophie. We sent you a copy about a month ago, but I don’t see it in the RR or IEP, so I thought we’d better go over it for everyone’s benefit.”

The case manager looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know whether it was something you wanted in the Parental Input, or if it was just for my information.”

Peter gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s OK. We like to start meetings with the profile and the vision statement, because we think it helps to focus the team on who Sophie is as a person.”

At the end of the table, McKinney was frowning and shuffling papers, as though she wanted to change the subject but didn’t know how.

Chasten straightened expectantly. He couldn’t wait to see how the teachers and therapists reacted to the vision statement. Peter knew it by heart, so he could look at every person in the room while he delivered it.

“Sophie’s life will be an indispensable part of the American story. She will experience respect and belonging. Her choices and opportunities will be meaningful and varied. She will live a life of substance, and she will face the world boldly and joyfully. She will learn discipline, responsibility and teamwork so that when the time comes, she can choose a vocation where she can fulfill her hopes and dreams and be of service to others. She will live, learn, work and play in the same spaces as other citizens. She will measure herself by the standards of excellence and truth. When she becomes an adult, she will enjoy family, friends, loving relationships, a good job, good health and spiritual fulfillment. She will push her family, her community and her nation to be more just and welcoming, and in the process she will make us stronger.”

It was a voice the persons sitting around the table had heard on television, in speeches from the Oval Office designed to inspire and motivate, and they were transfixed. All but one of them, Chasten observed.

Violet McKinney sniffed, and her mouth contorted as though she were trying to suppress a sneer. “That’s lovely, Mr. Buttigieg. I think we are all very moved by your high aspirations for your daughter. But we must keep in mind that we as a team are here to create realistic educational goals for Sophie in light of her disabilities. And we must provide a program for her as a child with an intellectual disability.”

Pete’s eyebrows arched in that familiar gesture that told Chasten he was not about to suffer a fool gladly. “Dr. McKinney, I hope you’re not suggesting that we are in denial about Sophie’s disability. We knew she had Down syndrome before we adopted her.” His voice was deceptively mild.

“Actually, we knew before we even applied to adopt her,” Chasten amended, knowing that most of the people sitting around the table would have some familiarity with the story of Sophie’s adoption. Even if they hadn’t been paying attention when it took place, after Pete’s first presidential run in 2020, by the time Pete was elected in 2024 it had become the stuff of endless television interviews and stories in Lifestyle pages and feature magazines.

Looking around the table, Chasten could tell by the nods and smiles of recognition that most of the people at the table knew the story. How a young woman had approached the adoption agency the two men were working with, after she learned suddenly that she was pregnant with a child with Down syndrome. She could not bring herself to choose abortion but was certain that she was not ready or able to raise a child with Sophie’s disability. A few years earlier, she had had to drop out of college to care for an aging parent and a brother with serious medical needs.

Now her home situation had stabilized and she had finally been able to return to college and prepare for a career. Peter and Chasten wanted to adopt a newborn infant if at all possible and jumped at the chance. Chasten had taught children with Down syndrome, and Pete had a childhood friend with developmental disabilities. They welcomed the extra chromosome.

They were in the hospital when Sophie was born. Soon after her birth, her doctors told them that she would need surgery for a duodenal obstruction before she could go home. Pete and Chasten practically lived in the pediatric unit during that time, taking turns holding her and comforting her when she cried. Photos of the two of them in hospital gowns, cradling Sophie and hovering over her, had become iconic. Finally, they were able to take her home. That intense time in the hospital had made them incredibly close as a family.

They showered Sophie’s birth mother with gratitude for the gift she’d given them. Her sadness was tempered by relief that her daughter would grow up in a loving and stable home. At their bittersweet parting at the hospital, Pete and Chasten made clear that they understood her feelings of loss. When Sophie came through her surgery successfully, they let her know and told her that she should always feel free to contact them whenever she wanted to know how Sophie was doing.

Violet McKinney opened and closed her mouth and was silent for a few moments. Finally she picked up the reevaluation report and said, “Let’s begin with speech and language. Sophie has extreme needs in this area. Tameka?”

Tameka turned to her portion of the report and summarized the results of her testing. She spent much of her time on the language sample, emphasizing the richness of Sophie’s expressive language. Violet interrupted periodically to emphasized how delayed Sophie was.

When Tameka finished, Anne Montgomery opened one of the files she had brought with her and gave a stack of papers to Chasten to pass out to the group. “This is a linguistic analysis of the words that Sophie uses and understands,” she told them.

“Sophie’s grandmother is a retired professor of linguistics,” Chasten interjected. “So her report should be treated as a professional evaluation.”

“We’ll put it in the parental input,” Violet said shortly.

Tameka looked over the report and faced the director “This is useful information,” she said as respectfully as she was able. “It compares Sophie’s use of language to developmental norms and to other children with Down syndrome. I’d like to include it in the speech/language section of the RR.” As soon as the words were out, she felt her chest tighten in fear. The director did not like to be contradicted in a meeting, and staff had been disciplined for less.

But McKinney had no rejoinder to this. Anne was looking at the group expectantly, and Chasten nodded to her to continue.

“Sophie is doing very, very well in learning language,” she said. “She’s able to say nearly 400 words, and she understands almost one thousand. That is above age expectations for a child with her disability.”

McKinney frowned. “But it’s far below what a typical child would have achieved by age five.”

Anne nodded. “Yes, a typical child of five might say between 1500 and 2000 words and understand as many as 2,500. However, Sophie is at the upper limit of achievement for a five-year old with Down Syndrome.”

As she spoke, Chasten was looking ahead to the Individualized Education Program and the goals that the school district had added to the draft they had received before the meeting. He took out his phone and began to thumb the keypad. McKinney looked at him suspiciously, but he ignored her.

Anne continued, referring the group to her report. “Sophie uses prepositions and descriptions of size -- she understands concepts like over, under, top, bottom, big and small and many other similar concepts. She uses negatives. She tells simple stories. When we get to the academic portion of the evaluation, you’ll see that she knows most of the letters of the alphabet.”

Tameka looked appreciative. The psychologist who had done the standardized testing looked flummoxed.

Chasten had reached Sophie’s private speech therapist. _We’re in the IEP meeting, he texted, What are “mands” and “tacts”?_

_Terms used in a Verbal Behavior program,_ appeared on his screen. T_hey mean requesting and labelling. Do they want to place Sophie in a VB classroom_

_Looks that way what do u think_

_Totally inappropriate_

_Explain_

_She’d be drilled by a 1:1 teacher in a separate classroom behind a divider screen. It’s rote and mechanical and isolated and would not generalize to any other environment. Sophie doesn’t learn that way. She needs to generalize skills that’s why she needs embedded instruction._

Chasten had had this conversation with Sophie’s teachers and therapists many times. All of them emphasized that Sophie needed to be taught in natural environments so that she could practice the skills she was learning throughout the day in a variety of contexts and get the repetition she needed. It had worked very well, to judge by the results.

_The teaching method they use is designed for kids who need to be heavily controlled and reinforced to pay attention. They reward kids with flashy toys, videos etc which leaves less time for instruction_

_Soph doesn’t need more toys. _Chasten added a wry face emoji.

_The teachers are trained to mix and vary tasks and 80 percent of the time they drill the kid in skills she already knows so only 20 percent is spent teaching new skills. That would not be challenging enough for Sophie_

_Thanks are u available if we need to call you when we get to that part_

_Yes._

Chasten put his phone down and looked up at the group, trying not to look as smug as he felt.

Anne had finished her report, and the team went through the sections on occupational and physical therapy without incident.

When they reached the psychologist’s portion of the evaluation report, the psychologist admitted that his standardized testing had failed to yield meaningful results. It was obvious that Sophie was delayed in most skills, but he could not give more precise results.

Tameka raised her hand and caught Chasten’s eye. She knew she was speaking out of turn, but curiosity got the better of her. “I noticed that the profile says that Sophie is reading on a kindergarten level. Why is that in the profile when the testing doesn’t support that?”

Chasten beamed at the speech therapist. There were few things he loved more than talking about his daughter’s reading skills. “Sure, let me show you this.”

He stood, pulled a folder out of his stack and passed out copies to the group. “This is an evaluation by a literacy specialist in Connecticut whom we took Sophie to last month. She’s a fellow of the Academy of Orton-Gillingham Practitioners who specializes in literacy for children with Down Syndrome. I’m sorry I couldn’t share it with you before the meeting, but we just received it. The Executive Summary is a good overview.”

He paused long enough to give the team members time to read the summary part of the report. It confirmed that indeed, Sophie’s literacy skills were at least as well developed as those of the average child of her age.

Tameka read the report with interest. Violet sat stiffly, barely glancing at the report. “I’ll have to look at her method, but the report is obviously flawed. A child with Sophie’s level of intellectual impairment cannot be reading on the same level as a typical child of her age.”

Chasten, still standing, reached for another folder. “This research report by Buckley, et al. shows that many children with Down syndrome are able to read on grade level and explains why. I assume you know that the lead author, Dr. Sue Buckley, OBE – that stands for Order of the British Empire -- is a psychologist and professor emeritus at the University of Portsmouth in the UK and the world’s leading expert on reading instruction for children with Down syndrome.”

It was apparent from Violet’s expression that she did not know, but Chasten passed out the documents he was holding and continued.

“Research shows that with proper instruction, children with Down syndrome can learn to read at a significantly higher level than their cognitive profile would suggest. The reason is that reading draws on their visual strengths. Spoken language, on the other hand, often reflects their auditory weakness.”

Anne added, reinforcing Chasten’s explanation. “Sophie, like most children with her disability, has a strong visual working memory, much stronger than her auditory working memory. So she’s very good at written language.”

Peter, who had been listening appreciatively to his husband and mother educate the school staff, chimed in. “Mom and Chasten had read the research and insisted that we teach Sophie to match identical written words when she was very young, around age 3 or so. She was quite successful. Now, she can read very simple books with words she knows.”

Chasten grinned from ear to ear. “Well, Peter learned to read by age 3, so we didn’t want Sophie to fall too far behind.”

“We think that one reason her spoken language is coming along so well is that she’s been taught to read.” Anne added. “The research shows that instruction in literacy helps kids like Sophie overcome their auditory weakness. We also worked on phonemic awareness beginning when she was quite little.”

The psychologist spoke up, hesitantly but obviously intrigued. “How did you teach her?”

Chasten the teacher was in his element now. “We began with teaching her to recognize words for things that were familiar to her. As Peter mentioned, she learned to match identical printed words, for example to match ‘dog’ to ‘dog.” Then, after she got pretty good at doing that, we asked her to select the same words: ‘Show me dog.’ We made sure she understood what the word meant: ‘Buddy and Truman are dogs.’”

“Did you teach her to memorize a sight word list, like Dolch?” one of the teachers asked.

Chasten shook his head firmly. “No. Our literacy specialist convinced us that a list of words in isolation, no matter how familiar, would not work as well as teaching Sophie words in context. It’s so important to read for meaning!”

“We’ve all seen children whose reading comprehension lags behind their ability to decode, and we didn’t want that for Sophie,” Anne added.

“So the next thing we did,” Chasten continued, “was to make simple books for her, using words and sentences at her comprehension level. We customized the books for Sophie, her interests and what she was working on in preschool. We collaborated with her preschool teachers. We matched the words to pictures. We used hyperlinks that Sophie could click on to hear the sound of the word.”

“Of course, she wanted us to read the books over and over,” Anne smiled. “Which was good, because she learns through repetition. But I guess that’s true of all kids – I can’t tell you how many times we read ‘Curious George’ and ‘Goodnight Moon’ to Peter when he was a toddler.”

Pete blushed for an embarrassed moment, and there were smiles and chuckles of recognition around the table.

“Chasten and my mom are really great teachers,” Pete affirmed, his face radiating admiration. “Chasten is wonderful at teaching kids to analyze what they read. He gets them to engage, to think about the characters, why they acted as they did, what’s likely to happen next. No matter how simple the reading material, he’s a genius at getting them to dig deeper.”

Tameka’s spirits lifted as she listened to them. She watched the faces of her colleagues as they absorbed this new and surprising information about Sophie. They were attentive, even rapt. Chasten’s enthusiasm was contagious, and the atmosphere in the room had shifted palpably. Clearly, the family was winning over all but the most hardened special educators.

Before they finished the Evaluation Report, Chasten pulled out another journal article, this one a meta-analysis of research on teaching literacy to children with Down syndrome, nearly all of it supporting Dr. Buckley’s conclusions.

“The important recommendation for work in the classroom,” Chasten said as he passed out the meta-analysis, “is that spoken language needs to be paired with written and visual materials on Sophie’s level. For example, during read-aloud, she needs to have a simple book, with pictures, to look at so she can follow along. You’ll have to make books just for her that reflect the regular curriculum. I know it’s extra work, but I promise you, you’ll be happy to do it because she will experience so much success.”

For the last quarter hour or so, Violet had been silent, and it felt to Tameka as though she were almost shrinking in her seat. Chasten had effectively taken over the meeting.

That became even more apparent as the team turned to the Individualized Education Program. The group agreed to rewrite the Present Levels to reflect Anne’s report and the literacy evaluation. The family did not like the literacy goals, which were focused on sight words and handwriting, and Chasten wound up re-writing them to emphasize grammar, comprehension and composing stories.

Finally, they reached the goals that had been added to the IEP after the draft had been sent home to Pete and Chasten. Chasten read the first in his best drama-teacher’s voice: “When participating in 15-minute mand sessions, Sophia will independently request reinforcers at an average frequency of 2 mands per minute over 5 consecutive days.”

From the uncomfortable expressions on the faces of the teachers at the table, Chasten gathered that the goal made about as much sense to them as it did to him, that is to say not very much. He looked at Violet, willing his voice to sound puzzled rather than accusatory: “What does that even mean? What is a ‘mand session,’ and why do you want Sophie to make 2 mands per minute?”

Violet looked at him weakly. “That’s why I wanted the supervisor of the Autism program to attend the meeting, so she could describe the program to you. But you made her leave.”

“Well, I assume you stand behind the IEP you are offering and can explain why this goal is there.”

Violet was obviously struggling to reassert her professional authority. “A mand session is a form of intensive 1:1 instruction. A mand is a term of art for a request. We’re proposing to provide Sophie with the very best opportunity to develop her verbal skills. She will have a highly trained teacher who will reinforce her for emitting as many mands as possible during those intensive sessions.”

When she paused for a moment, Peter’s calm, deep voice drew everyone’s attention to his place at the table. “I think we’re more interested in how Sophie responds to _other_ people’s requests than in how many requests she can make in a minute.”

Anne nodded. “He’s right. If all you can do is make requests, you’re not going to have many friends. And besides, Tameka’s language sample shows that Sophie already knows how to ask for things she needs or wants. Maybe too much so.”

Tameka’s smile was appreciative. “I did see that when I evaluated her, yes.” Her voice was carefully respectful.

Chasten decided to cut to the chase. “This is a goal for a Verbal Behavior classroom, isn’t it? If so, I think you have predetermined Sophie’s educational placement.”

Violet swallowed, then answered weakly, “We think this is an appropriate goal for a child with Sophie’s expressive language delays. And it may well be that one of our Verbal Behavior classrooms is the best place to implement that goal.”

Down the table, Anne spoke up, her voice astonished. “Verbal Behavior? The behaviorist approach to language invented by B.F. Skinner? Noam Chomsky refuted his ideas about language decades ago. It’s just not how children learn to communicate.”

Violet was clearly on the defensive now. “According to the law, our district is entitled to use its choice of methodology.”

“But you are not allowed to use a methodology that is not appropriate for Sophie,” Chasten responded. He repeated what the private speech therapist had texted him about the inappropriateness of this method for Sophie. “We want this goal and the other Verbal Behavior goals removed from the IEP. Sophie will attend her neighborhood school in a regular kindergarten classroom. Not a separate Verbal Behavior classroom.”

Violet started to protest, but Chasten continued. “Our private therapist will be happy to call into the meeting if you would like to hear from her directly. And if you disagree about Sophie’s placement, we will be happy to call her to testify in the hearing that we’re entitled to if we disagree.”

Violet shrank bank in her seat, and the expression on her face had changed from defensive to terrified. Chasten could see that she was imagining the prospect of being challenged in an administrative proceeding by the President and First Gentleman.

“We simply wanted to offer Sophie a high-quality, evidence-based program. A highly scientific program based on Applied Behavior Analysis,” she said faintly.

Chasten was about to respond when he sensed that Peter wanted to break in. “Applied Behavior Analysis?” he asked. “The school district can get Medicaid funding for ABA services. So that means that the Verbal Behavior program is funded by Medicaid, and the school district doesn’t have to pay for it.”

For maybe the thousandth time since the Inauguration, Chasten was grateful for his husband’s depth of policy knowledge. “Follow the money,” he muttered darkly to Anne.

Violet could not disguise her chagrin. She opened and shut her mouth a few times before she said, “We appreciate that the family has rejected those goals and has asked that Sophie be educated in regular kindergarten. We disagree but will honor the parents’ request.”

The rest of the meeting was a formality. As the participants prepared to leave the table, Chasten stood up to shake hands with everyone and noticed that Peter was tapping on his phone. He turned to Violet and said, “Sophie is coming here with her Secret Service escort to pick us up and drive back to the White House. I’d like her to be able to visit the building and see her new classroom.”

Violet, still wounded, pursed her lips, but the case manager responded enthusiastically. “Of course! I’ll take her to the classroom. And maybe she can check out the playground, too – it was updated just recently, and we’re very pleased with the new equipment.”

“They’ll be arriving at the office any minute now,” Peter smiled.

Chasten went to the door, the case manager close behind him – he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to walk a few feet down the hall without an escort – and turned to Peter before he left the room. “Stay here,” he said. “I’m going to surprise her.”

Peter raised his eyebrows and chuckled. He shook hands with the remaining staff and then backed up so that he was behind the open door. Tameka and most of the other staff lingered so that they could meet Sophie.

In a matter of minutes, the case manager and Chasten returned hand in hand with a sturdy little girl dressed in a blue and deep yellow striped overall -- the president’s campaign colors, Tameka remembered. Sophie entered the room confidently. Everything about her, from her wide mouth turned up st the corners to the set of her shoulders, radiated humor and energy.

“Hi, Grandma!” she said when she saw Anne, and went to her for a hug. Anne hugged her tight, then slowly turned her around so that she could see Pete standing behind the door.

“Daddy!” she shrieked and ran to him, her voice rising several decibels. Pete leaned down and let her run into his arms. They hugged, and then he hoisted her high above his head while she squealed with delight.

Chasten looked on happily. Sophie loved both her fathers equally, but seeing Peter during the day was a special treat for her.

“We’re going to show you your new school,” said Pete with the special fond warmth he reserved for Sophie. “You can see the classroom where you’ll be next year. And your new teacher.”

“And the playground, too,” the case manager added.

“Swing with Daddy?” asked Sophie hopefully.

“You bet!” said Peter, putting her down gently.

The three of them went off down the hall together, with Chasten and Anne following closely behind.

_That was a good meeting, _Chasten reflected.

To be continued ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a video of a talk by Sue Buckley on "Literacy and Students with Down syndrome." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uZFGh4rIq8
> 
> Fun fact: The moderator of the presentation in the video happens to be the person who wrote the education section of Pete's disability plan.
> 
> In the next and final chapter, the grown-ups have some alone time and the story earns its rating.

**Author's Note:**

> Acronyms:
> 
> IDEA = Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, a federal law first passed in 1975.  
FAPE = Free, appropriate public education, required by IDEA for each child with a disability.  
LRE = Least restrictive environment, a shorthand term for "education with children who do not have disabilities to the maximum extent appropriate," required by IDEA.  
IEP = Individualized Education Program: a statement of the strengths, needs, goals, specially designed instruction, related services and support for school personnel   
required by law for a child with a disability.  
ER = Evaluation Report: the initial evaluation required for a child eligible for, or thought to be eligible for, specially designed instruction and related services.  
OSERS = the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitation Services within the U.S. Department of Education. Its director is a Presidential appointment  
OSEP = the Office of Special Education Programs, a division of OSERS. Its director is also a Presidential appointment.  
VB-MAPP = Verbal Behavior Milestones And Placement Program, an assessment that purports to measure language-related skills using a behaviorist method.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up momentarily.


End file.
